


Court

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:22:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25716505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: King Hank treats with the neighbours.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 1
Kudos: 36





	Court

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Hank mutters, “Fucking androids,” under his breath, just a _little_ too low for Jeffrey to hear—he doesn’t need another lecture, certainly not from a man that’s _supposed_ to be his underling. His chief advisor keeps right on talking, voice thick with that _you better pay attention_ tone of his.

“...Everyone knows that Zengarden is making technological advances the rest of us could only dream of. If they were to put that technology to military use, it isn’t just Detroit we’d have to worry for, but the entire kingdom—”

Hank nods like he’s listening and keeps pace with Jeffrey, marching down the long hall towards his audience chamber, when he really wants to be back in bed nursing a bad hangover. His ears are still ringing from last night’s feast, where he already welcomed Kamski’s delegation. Hank had to sit across from the smug ambassador and two unholy demons who _looked_ like human beings, yet had glowing rings on their temples to signify their lack of souls. Of course Hank understands the importance of their kingdoms getting along, but if he could boot Kamski right out of Detroit, he would. 

Jeffrey would have his head for it. They near the massive doors, and Jeffrey finishes, “Just behave, Your Majesty.”

“Yeah, yeah.” 

The head of his royal guards steps forward, doing the honours of throwing open the grand entranceway—Hank struts through without a word to him or any of the soldiers stationed there. He’s never been one for royal propriety or niceties. His only solace is that Sumo’s wandered his way into the audience chamber and is currently lounging by the throne. 

Hank lumbers over to that throne and plops down, settling in and slumping back. Jeffrey stops at his side, Reed on the other. Kamski’s already waiting at the end of the hall, amidst a sea of the usual courtiers and soldiers. The same pretty blond girl from last night waits next to him, a close-shaven, serious-looking man standing just behind, and three other armoured guards that look eerily identical. Hank’s not sure _anyone_ in Kamski’s entourage is entirely human. It’s an unsettling thought. When Hank nods, Kamksi steps forward, bowing from the waist before drawling, “Your Majesty. It’s good to see you again.”

Hank grunts something like “whatever.” Jeffrey nudges his side, but he doesn’t correct himself. 

Kamski looks unperturbed. He smoothly continues, “Now we reach the real reason for my visit. I came to offer a gift to His Majesty, as a gesture of peace from my kingdom to yours. I hope this assures you that despite our differences, we are allies.”

Hank doubts Kamski has anything he wants. He’ll accept whatever it is solely because he has to, and then he’ll have Jeffrey pick out some treasure from the hoard to throw at Kamski in exchange, and they’ll both pretend they’re not warily eyeing each other’s borders. The doors open, and more of Kamski’s branded troops bring in his gift. 

Hank straightens in his seat. He wasn’t sure what to expect—something golden, probably; a scepter or necklace—but the thing brought before him is a _man_ , or at least, a machine that looks like one. Hank would be the first to admit he has no concept of how Zengarden’s metal creatures work, but this is extraordinary: the man that walks down his red carpet is all soft skin, peach flesh and brown hair, with deep brown eyes that twinkle as though full of _life_. A few well-placed moles dot his chiseled body, adding a curious flare of uniqueness, though he’s already unique in his beauty—Hank’s never seen a more handsome figure in his life. To top it off, the man is _naked_ , though he walks with no shame—he marches forward ahead of his retinue, chin held high. 

It abruptly strikes Hank how horribly _long_ his audience chamber is. It seems to take a small eternity for the ‘gift’ to reach him, and he spends those agonizing moments staring at every little detail. He doesn’t want to. He would much prefer to remain aloof and uninterested, but it’s impossible to ignore the man’s flaccid cock bouncing off his creamy thighs. Hank greedily traces the lines on his sculpted stomach, the sharp jut of his hip bones, the pale pink nipples that adorn his flat chest. It takes the entire trip from doors to throne for Hank’s eyes to finally make it back to the man’s face, where a little curl of neatly-brushed hair tops off his perfect features. 

He kneels before Hank, exactingly graceful, bowing his head low. Blood rushes straight to Hank’s groin. Sumo gives a curious whimper and pads a few paces forward, just enough to swipe his tongue right up the side of the stranger’s face.

Hank’s gift closes his eyes and smiles softly. Apparently, Sumo’s foul breath is no trouble for an android. Hank would know this creature were inhuman even without the blue circle on his forehead—he’s simply too gorgeous to be real. And he’s on his knees for Hank, perilously close to Hank’s crotch.

An awkward silence settles over the hall. Then Jeffrey pointedly clears his throat, and Hank snaps back to life. He hurriedly unclasps his silver cape from his shoulders and bends forward to drape it over the android’s naked body. He knows it’s too late—he can feel himself blushing and knows the whole hall must se his reaction—but if he’s going to regain composure at all, he’ll need to hide the distraction. 

Turning a sharp look to Kamski, he wants to growl _what’s the meaning of this_ or even _I don’t need a damn tin pot._ It takes great effort to hold back. Kamski speaks first. “The latest and greatest of our achievements, Your Majesty. It was named Connor during the manufacturing process, but you may rename it whatever you wish. It will do anything you like—cook, clean, even offer political advice—and it will never defy or betray you.”

And it’ll never grow old. Never fade. He’ll be young and handsome long after Hank’s body is rotting underground. ‘Connor’ straightens up, and it’s eerie the way it, or he, looks at Hank—no matter the truth, Connor looks so _real_.

Evidently, Sumo thinks so too. He nuzzles affectionately into Connor’s side, and Connor makes no effort to push him away. Hank finds himself muttering despite himself, “Sumo, behave.”

Sumo barks and otherwise ignores him. Connor calmly tells him, “It’s alright, Your Majesty; I like dogs.”

Hank stares. He didn’t think Kamski’s godforsaken machines could _like_ anything. 

This one certainly looks intelligent. Intriguing. Connor seems to read the reluctance on Hank’s face, because he shuffles minutely forward, cape clutched around his shoulders, and he leans in to murmur, “I can do more than that, Your Majesty. I have advanced analytical skills, and I think you’ll find me most valuable.”

Hank lifts a brow. “ _Analytical_ skills?”

Connor nods, then tilts upward—Hank gets the hint and leans down, allowing the machine to whisper in his ear, “I will require further data to be certain, but I already have enough clues to suspect that your chief guard is plotting to overthrow you.”

Hank wrenches back. His head swivels around to Lieutenant Reed, whose staring dully at the far wall. He’s been throwing less tantrums of late, but he’s definitely still an asshole, and Hank wouldn’t be at all surprised if Connor were completely right. 

He gives Connor a curious look, and Connor adds, “I can also instantly surmise the nutritional value of a meal, and I’m equipped with the latest music, including the complete catalogue of such bard groups as Knights of the Black D—”

Hank’s heard enough. Over Connor’s head, he announces, “I accept your generous gift. Thank you.” It galls him to be so polite, and worse to see Kamski’s thin smile twist into place. But at least it gives him an excuse to end the meeting. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to return to my quarters to, uh... inspect it.” Kamski’s smirk deepens. 

Hank ignores it. He offers Connor a hand and guides his new present to his private chambers, leaving Reed, Jeffrey, and even Sumo behind.


End file.
